Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 298 --

He reached into his satchel. Three poisons—poison black as night, green berries glimmering faintly, and lotus extract like liquid moonlight—materialized in his hands. Even the faintest wisp of their scent made the healer’s stomach knot.

"You... you brought these here? Into the house?" the healer whispered, voice cracking. "One drop of that poison alone could wipe out the tribe... and all three together?" His back pressed against the wall, fear curling like fire through his veins.

Cutie didn’t flinch. Every movement was calm, controlled, precise—but charged with a pulse of urgency that made the air itself vibrate. The faint shimmer of the poisons caught the light, making them seem alive, waiting and then cutie wore a leather gloves in his hands.

Cutie’s leather-gloved hands moved with deliberate calm. He approached the healer’s rack, eyes cold and focused, fingers wrapping around the stone grinder and the heavy round stone. One by one, he dropped the green berries and frozen lotus inside, then pressed down, crushing them with slow, precise pressure.

A sharp, acrid miasma rose from the paste. Even through the cloth wrapped over his nose, it burned, clawing at his senses. He poured Zehreela into the mixture. The slurry shimmered, a viscous green-black that seemed almost alive, writhing with venom.

The healer froze before he even realized what had struck him. A tremor ran through his chest, sudden and violent. His knees buckled. He stumbled backward, gasping, coughing, and dark blood spewed from his mouth, black and thick, hissing as it hit the floor. Each cough rattled him to his core, and pain twisted through his chest with every breath. He sank to the ground, trembling, the taste of iron and poison thick in his mouth.

How is this possible? His mind screamed. He hadn’t touched Kaya—not a drop, not a smear. And yet, even a wisp of Zehreela in the air could cut him this deep. Thank the heavens he’d taken anti-poison beforehand; otherwise, he would be gone.

Inside, Cutie worked as if time itself bent around him. The paste became liquid, fine and deadly, each movement measured and absolute. The air itself seemed to coil around him, charged with menace. The poison in his hands felt alive, whispering of death, and yet he handled it like a painter with his brush.

He lifted Kaya’s head with one gloved hand. Her eyes fluttered weakly, lips parting in a fragile gasp. Cutie poured the mixture slowly into her mouth, gathering every drop, even those that spilled onto her clothing. The liquid touched her tongue, and her body convulsed.

"AHHHHHHHHHH".

A scream ripped from her throat, guttural and raw, a sound that seemed to vibrate the walls themselves. Her fingers twitched, trembling as though trying to push the world away. Every breath she drew was a shard of agony. The healer on the floor shrank against the wall, skin crawling, body shaking as the sheer, oppressive weight of the room pressed .

Suddenly, the healer’s gaze snapped toward Veer. The vulture lay sprawled, wings heavy and motionless, yet a faint twitch ran through his fingers—as though even in unconsciousness, his body refused to surrender.

The healer staggered closer, each step cautious, wary of what he might find. Even at a glance it was clear: Veer had burned himself hollow. Not a trace of strength remained in his frame. And yet... those stubborn fingers still twitched, clinging to something unseen—perhaps dragged back by the echo of that woman’s scream, resonating deep inside him.

Kneeling, the healer pressed two fingers against Veer’s wrist. His breath caught. The pulse beneath his skin roared, too fast, too violent, hammering against his touch like a beast thrashing in its cage. This was no rhythm of life. This was a body devouring itself to stay alive.

"Impossible..." the healer whispered, voice cracking. This wasn’t mere exhaustion. To call it overexertion was a mockery. Veer’s body had been forced beyond reason, past the edge of flesh and spirit. Every hidden reserve, every buried scrap of will, had been ripped open and wrung dry—until nothing was spared.

It was as if every last button of his being had been slammed at once, the machine of his body pushed past its limits, blazing, burning, until only raw defiance kept him tethered to existence.

Suddenly, another scream tore through the house—Kaya’s. Sharp, agonized, it split the air and echoed from the hut.

The healer’s head snapped toward Veer just as his hand twitched again—stronger this time, deliberate. Startled, he pressed his fingers back to Veer’s wrist. His breath caught. The pulse had surged—violent, furious—beating with a force that defied reason.

He looked from Veer’s face—ashen, drenched in sweat, utterly unconscious—to the hut where Kaya lay. Fear knotted in his chest. How could a body this broken still respond? Veer was collapsed, his spirit drained to dust. He should not move. He should not hear. And yet, every scream wrenched an answer from him: a hammering pulse, a stubborn twitch, as if his body refused to surrender.

The healer’s throat went dry. It was her voice. Even through walls, through unconsciousness, it struck some hidden chord inside him—dragging him back from the dark.

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Two days later.....

Chirp chrip chrip 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Two days had passed before her eyelids stirred, trembling as if weighed down by lead. She blinked once, twice, and the world swam around her—blurred shapes, streaks of sunlight slicing through a woven roof of rough, uneven grass. Dust floated in the shafts of light, catching on invisible currents, and the faint, earthy smell of straw filled her nose.

Her throat burned like fire with every swallow. She tried to call out—tried to form a sound—but only a raspy croak emerged, weak and pitiful. Panic prickled along her spine, and her hands shook as she pushed herself upright. Muscles she hadn’t used in days screamed with every movement, the floor rough and unforgiving beneath her bare feet.

Everything around her was unfamiliar. The walls of the small room pressed close, the ceiling low, the air thick with the scent of dried grass and clay. A simple clay jug of water sat in one corner, alongside a few carefully arranged items—food, maybe medicine—but she barely noticed, caught in the disorientation of her own body.